


Public Transit

by viiizz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiizz/pseuds/viiizz
Summary: welcome to the shitshow. i only know art and cars.





	Public Transit

Toyotas are apparently pretty good cars for the everyday commuter; that’s what everyone says, but that’s a gross understatement. Toyotas are godlike cars. They can take the beating of a lifetime, go ten thousand miles without an oil change, and won’t squeal when the driver turns the steering wheel all the way to its limit. 

The long and short of it is that Toyotas are godlike cars because they’re the only cars that Takashi Shirogane hasn’t managed to blow up.

But today, he thinks his luck might have run out. Every stoplight is a puttering mess, the poor Camry groaning and jumping even when stopped. When he accelerates, she coughs and jerks seemingly back and forth, throwing Shiro around. 

She finally sputters out when he makes it to the driveway of his house. At least it wasn’t on the highway.

Shiro hasn’t called Kolivan in a while, an old college friend who now owns and runs his own shop on the East end of town. His Camry has been great to him since he got her, so long as he’s relatively good at keeping up with oil change appointments and inspections. Emphasis on the word relatively.

So he feels a little bad about calling his friend up for the first time in a while only because his car finally gave up, but what else can he do? With a sigh and a small grimace, he dials up the shop and waits for the flatline but love-filled greeting he’d gotten used to over years of calling his friend up for drinks over homework that would definitely never get done.

“Marmora’s, how can I help you.”

Flatline. But not Kolivan.

“Oh. Hi.” He hadn’t really prepared for a different voice. “Uh. Is Kolivan there?”

The line’s put on hold without a word. New kid, probably. Sounds college aged. Kolivan’s had a few of those in the past, but the younger ones tend to filter in and quickly out. He offhandedly wonders how long this one will last.

Kolivan picks up quickly after that, and after a short, stern scolding, Shiro’s calling up a tow truck to bring his car to the shop, courtesy of his friend. “It’s on me,” Kolivan had huffed. “Think of it as a reward for it taking this long to blow this one up.”

Four or five days, probably, Kolivan had said. Public transit will have to do.

Shiro hates the bus.

\--

Keith has never been so appalled in his life.

There’s bad, and then there’s this. The transmission fluid is black, the spark plug tips are fried, the distributor cap is cracked somehow, and there’s coolant all over the engine bay.

“Kolivan,” he says, dumbfounded, “you said you know this guy?”

From inside the engine bay of a lifted F-150, he hears a grumble and what he assumes must be a confirmation.

Keith looks back at the Toyota’s soaked insides. “And… You’re just letting him do this?”

There’s a long silence, and just when he thinks he’s not getting an answer, Kolivan pulls his head out of the bay and wipes his brow with his forearm, covered in grease. 

“Keith,” he starts, “don’t even try. Ask him to differentiate coolant from oil and he won’t be able to do it.” He chuckles and readies to dive back in. “Smart guy though. Keeping mechanics as friends.”

Keith wants to ask more but Kolivan’s already embedded himself back into the truck. No use now.

There’s no way this dude is real. Did he buy the car off the lot and never bring it back in again? Keith finds himself getting more irritated the deeper he gets into the vehicle as he replaces the cap and the spark plugs. How has Kolivan not even tried to lecture this guy about minimal car care? It’s so easy to do.

By the time he’s happy with the poor little car’s new state, he’s decided he’s gonna give this guy a piece of his mind… in a professional manner, of course. After a lot of hounding and at least one empty threat, Keith manages to get Kolivan’s word that he can take the guy at the counter when he comes in to get the Toyota. No cursing, no scoffing, and minimal talking down, so long as Kolivan doesn’t interfere. A deal Keith can live with.

He’s about to do his first customer reformation. Cool.

\--

It’s almost sundown when Shiro finally gets to the shop after a particularly hellish day of public transit navigation. He doesn’t see anyone at the counter as he walks up to the door. They’re probably closed. 

_I hate the bus. Always making me late._

The door is unlocked though, so he slips in and scans the lobby for Kolivan or maybe another employee, though he doubts anyone but Kolivan would be here this late. No luck. He even gains the courage to lean dangerously far over the counter on the off chance that someone is filing papers in the low desk, but to no avail. He remembers seeing all the garage bay doors being open as he walked up though, and there’s no way Kolivan would close up for the day without closing them, so he makes another bold move and opens the door to the bay area, looking around for any signs of life. He doesn’t see anything, but the garage is pretty big so he takes a few steps in a few directions. Again, nothing. 

“Hello? I’m here to pick up my car?” he tries halfheartedly. He almost jumps out of his skin when he gets a response.

“Which one.”

That’s not Kolivan.

“Oh, the Toyota. Camry. I’m Takashi Shirogane.”

He hears a thud that sounds suspiciously like a head against metal, and now he sees a pair of legs from underneath a car on the far end of the garage working to get their owner out from under. They’re thin and long, definitely not Kolivan’s. Now that he thinks about it, he recognizes that voice. The kid on the phone with all the charm in the world. Great.

The guy finally extracts himself from underneath the car and wipes at his shirt, looks up at Shiro, and-

Is this what whiplash feels like? Christ, get it together.

He’s stunning from across the garage, and Shiro is dreadfully reminded that it can only get worse the closer he gets. His dark hair is tossed around, something the kid- nope, that’s a man- is desperately trying to fix with not too much success. It’s cuter tousled like that anyway. He’s tall and slim, though Shiro can tell he’s got a few inches on him. And he’s obviously not new at this. The closer he gets, the more details Shiro notices- the calloused hands, scarred up arms and a larger more noticeable one running up his cheek from his jawline to below the eye, muscles that aren’t indicative of a daily workout routine but definitely of working lug nuts off cars that fell prey to other shops’ impact drivers, and-

His eyes are a deep blue, verging on grey or… purple? They’re big and mysterious, almost reminding Shiro of space. They definitely look more purple now. They’re bea-

“You there?”

If Shiro didn’t experience whiplash at the first sight of the guy, he’s experiencing it now.

“Yeah, sorry, I-“ Come on, think of something. “Long day,” Shiro decides on with a sheepish smile and a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

He thinks he catches the slightest of upturns on the other man’s straight-lined lips before he’s ushered back into the lobby area. Shiro’s doing mental gymnastics at a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out how to elongate his time with this ethereal being his wrecked car has unwittingly bestowed upon him when he’s hit with another blow.

“Your car is shit.”

Oh.

“Uh, yeah.” He awkwardly chuckles and decides to go along with it, not knowing what to say to that. “I know. Toyotas, you know?” Shiro himself does not know.

The other man quirks up an eyebrow. “No, like, you made it that way.”

Well that didn’t work.

The guy continues on, leaning down to grab a file Shiro can only presume is his car’s and practically laying across the counter as he flips through it. “Your distributor cap was cracked- no idea how that happened. And almost every spark plug was fried. Transmission fluid was shot too, so I flushed that out and refilled it, replaced the hoses that were spewing coolant everywhere… Hello? You there?”

This time Shiro is sure the other man isn’t getting a view of a lovestruck face, but rather a dumbfounded one. “Sorry,” Shiro apologizes, “I don’t really know cars all that well.”

The other man snorts and almost immediately composes himself. “You don’t need to know all that much to keep it from becoming a coolant-soaked mess.”

Shiro can feel his rose-tinted glasses fading away as he foresees a car lecture coming his way. The guy’s cute, but Shiro’s got some dignity too.

“Isn’t that your job?” he shoots back with a playful touch so as not to heat up the smartass in front of him anymore. He almost immediately feels bad, as the mechanic’s eyes go a touch wider and his eyebrows raise a bit. He contemplates apologizing, but stops when the other man’s mouth forms into a sly smile and his eyes get an almost dangerous-looking glint.

“Okay Mr. Shirogane, well-"

“Shiro,” he blurts.

The hothead smiles wider. “Shiro. Okay. Well, Shiro, your ignition lubricant is running pretty dry too, so you might want me to add some of that. And the thermite equalizer is off by a tad- nothing big, we won’t have to charge you to fix that. But…”

The man huffs loudly, looking almost dramatically pained. “Your reverse drive modulator. It’s fried. You ever had problems putting the vehicle into reverse?”

Shiro frowns. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well you will soon, if we don’t fix it,” the guy says quickly. Great. Shiro does not have it in him to ride the bus for another week, let alone the money to pay for a big repair. He can feel his face fall a little as he begins mentally weighing his options. He didn’t get this car that long ago, and they said it was almost completely refurbished. Is he really gonna have to buy another…?

“It’s okay though,” Mr. Mechanic says, cutting into Shiro’s inward crumble. “I’ll give you a discount, ‘cause you’re pretty cute.” He winks- “Our secret.”

There is so much going on. What the hell is going on? 

“Oh I- Okay.” He’s blushing. He can feel it. Damnit. “Thank you,” he mutters with a smile. Come on Shiro, level with him a little. “I mean… Are you sure? The reverse drive modulator does sound… Pricey…”

Shiro hears a chuckle above him, as he’s pretty much put his head on the counter from embarrassment and the fear of going completely fire engine red. He finds it in himself to look up at the man, who is resting his head on his hand and looking at Shiro like a puppy.

“How about this, Shiro.” The man stands from his seat and puts both his arms on the counter, crossing them over each other. “I’ll charge you for the distributor cap, plugs, fluid flush, and hoses, which won’t rack up anything monumental. No labor charge, cute discount still stands.” He winks again. “But in return, you have to bring me out for coffee this weekend so I can help educate you on not turning your car into a tin can on wheels in record time…” He leans a little closer. Shiro’s definitely fire engine red now, he can feel it. “And also on the reverse drive modulator, ignition lubricant, and thermite equalizer, and how they don’t exist.”

Is there any tint of red that’s redder than fire-engine red?

When Shiro doesn’t respond in a timely manner, the man stands up straight and clears his throat. “Alright, sir. We’ve got your card on file so you’re good to go. Car’s in the side parking lot. Pleasure doing business with you.” He grabs a piece of paper and scribbles something on it and slides it over to Shiro, sliding himself in as well. “Name’s Keith. Hope to see you soon, Shiro.”

And with that, Keith disappears into the back office.

Shiro leaves Marmora’s with a newfound love for the bus always making him late.

 

And then they got together and lived happily ever after, partially because they’re soulmates but mostly because I don’t know how to properly tie stories up


End file.
